Spring-Heel'd Jack, The Terror of London — page 268: what you’re looking at

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270 ‘* Tt’s more than many would.” ‘That may be. But I speak as I find; and, having found you to bea noble-hearted man, I | the first. can do no less,”’ “ Well—well,’’ said Jack, “let us drop that subject. We will bandy compliments some other time. Now to business.” I'he young man bowed. : iz ‘You are anxious to meet with your sister ? ” said Jack. am ‘Very well. But do not buoy yourself up with the certainty that the lady named Ellen Folder with whom [ am acquainted is the person you seek. There are many Folders in the world, and resemblances are often strange. The Ellen Folder of my acquaintance may be the veriest stranger to you, my friend, after all.” ‘* T hope not.” | ‘So dol. But still you had better-look for- ward for disappointment in your hopes. Haye you breakfasted ? ’ = Wesha | ‘“Then we will go at once.” ‘ With pleasure,” said Richard. : Jack took up his hat, and moved towards the oor. ‘ The young man followed him down the stairs into the street. Jack took his arm, and together they moved alone. But Richard showed some evidence of wishing to hang back—a circumstance which caused Jack some surprise, and called forth a remark that brought the warm blood to the young man’s cheek, “Sir,” he said, in answer, “I would rather walk behind. I should be sorry to disgrace you. ‘Disgrace me?” cried Jack, in surprise. ‘What do you mean ? ” Richard turned his eyes from Jack’s face on to his own person with a meaning glance. ‘I am so shabbily attired, sir, that I am”’ “Tut, tut!’ exclaimed Jack. ‘‘I care not a hg for the coat; ’tis the man I look at. A gentleman may be robed in rags as well as broad- cloth ; and he is still a gentleman, whatever his attire. My dear friend, you will not disgrace me nor yourself.’’ “But, sir, should you meet any of your friends,” said Richard. “They would treat you with the same respect as myself,’ was the answer. ‘‘The case might be different were I in the company of one of those self-conceited, overbearing, pompous indi- viduals of which this country can boast a very great number. I.mean that class who have no qualification for gentility, and by a show of dress, jewellery—everything, in fact, but common sense and common decency—wish to be thought by their fellow-men their superiors. ‘And are generally their inferiors,”’ said Richard. “Yes. So no more about disevacing me, if you please. Though, doubtless, it would be more congenial to your feelings to change your well-worn coat for a better garment, only [ trust that, with the change of garb, there will be no change of heart and soul.,’’ . ‘ . - » . Py s - -_—- y - " : 7 - = SS - =a a, at ‘ ‘ ‘ SPRING-HEEL'D JACK: THE TERROR OF LONDON. } ‘“ Never!” said the young man, fervently. “Oh,” said Jack, ‘if there is, you will not be Many a good heart has been changed to a bad one by a stroke of fortune.” “Mine never will be.”’ ‘“T believe it,” said Jack. Placed at his ease by the remarks of Jack, Richard Clavering walked on beside our hero for some minutes, when Jack hailed a coach, and bade the driver proceed to Holly Cottage. The morning was fine, and the ride pleasant, for although the thoughts of Richard would turn to the room of death, and fill his heart with sad- ness, yet Jack was so affable that he could but be gratified and often amused. Having discharged the coachman at the gate, our hero looked around the tastefully arranged gcarden, in search of Ellen, and, not finding her there, a sudden thought seized him that she was ill. : ) Certainly, she could not always be in the scarden, for the domestic duties must be attended to; but still Jack could not banish the pre- sentiment that had laid hold of his heart, when he found her seat, beneath a large alder, where she invariably sat at work in fine weather, vacant. He, however, kept his thoughts to himself, and hurried along the little gravel walk to the door, at which he knocked. Scarce had his fingers been taken from the knocker than the door was opened, and the tear- ful face of Jane Slater met his gaze. ie at There was no mistaking that the poor woman had been weeping long and violently, for her eyes were swollen and red, and her cheeks bore the traces of tears. ““ Mrs. Slater,” cried Jack, springing over the threshold, ‘“‘ why—why do I find you in grief?” “Oh, sir! oh, sir!” sobbed the woman; ‘*T am so unhappy, so unhappy ; but perhaps you know all about it ?” “ About what?” said Jack. “Miss Ellen!” “What of her? Is she ill? Tell me, quick, is she ill?” exclaimed Jack, in the utmost concern. ‘“ [ don’t—oh ! I don’t know.” ‘“‘ Where is she ? ” The woman shook her head. Jack started back in alarm. ‘Por heaven’s sake, what has happened ?” he asked. ‘‘ Don’t keepme in suspense.” He had taken the woman’s hand, and was looking into her face with an appealing glance. Checking back her sobs, Jane raised her tear- ful eyes to his, and gasped, rather than spoke— “Oh, sir! she’s gone.” > “Where ?”’ ** Heaven knows ! ” And, unable longer to ‘control herself, the woman suffered her head to fall on his arm, and sobbed as if her heart would break. Jack curbed his impatience, and led her into the little parlour, and, seating her on the sofa, awaited till the violence of her srief had some- what abated. | ‘Now tell me what all this means,” he said, at length. , Jane dried her eyes with her handkerchief, and said— | Cele pniiicelevere) <a ete)